


soon as the sun sets

by wingdingtypes



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Almost Kiss, Autistic Edward Nygma, Bisexual Edward Nygma, Canon Disabled Character, Canon Divergence, Canon Queer Character, Domestic Fluff, Episode: s02e08 Tonight's the Night, Feelings Realization, First Meetings, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Happy Ending, Injury Recovery, M/M, Minor Injuries, Missing Scene, Mutual Pining, Nygmobblepot, a little bit bcs oz is awake and the talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-11
Updated: 2019-12-11
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:15:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21752839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wingdingtypes/pseuds/wingdingtypes
Summary: S2 Ep 8, Ed finds Oswald bleeding out in the forest, and decides to try and help. Perhaps he gets a little too close...I wanted them to spend more time together getting to know each other so I take canon into my own hands
Relationships: Oswald Cobblepot & Edward Nygma, Oswald Cobblepot/Edward Nygma
Comments: 1
Kudos: 81





	soon as the sun sets

To his credit, Edward did have practise sewing up flesh, but the people he had regularly worked on were long past caring about sloppy stitching or bleeding out. Unlike this thin man before him, wincing and muttering expletives under his breath at every prick.

Originally he didn't even have time to _consider_ that it might be a trap, a ruse to get him into the hands of the law for Kristine's murder.  
His desire to ask questions began to rise in his throat.  
Why was he out here? What happened? Did he see the body?

 _Bodies_ , he mentally corrected himself.

And more importantly, would he tell anybody?

Oswald Cobblepot was a wanted criminal and known shady character after all, capable of anything. Regardless, he had found himself half-leading half-carrying Cobblepot back into the caravan that probably served as some lowlifes hideout. Hopefully, nobody would come knocking, but they would cross that bridge if they ever got to it. More important things were bleeding out on the carpet right now.

  
It quickly became evident that he was just in time, Oswald had already bled through his expensive silk shirt and jacket, it's black cloth and purple silk slowly turning red. Ed's calculating mind kicked into gear and helped him shed the cloth, wash away the blood and dirt, and retrieve a needle and thread from a medkit.

Dying or not, the Penguins' notorious witty attitude wasn't damped at all.

"Be _careful_ " he snarled as Nygma took another pass with the needle

  
"I _am_. It would hurt _less_ if you stopped squirming" he muttered through clenched teeth; his practised hands were steady and gaze intent. Determined for his concentration not to be broken by the barrage of insults which he was sure were just to distract from his unmedicated pain.

"Are you _sure_ you've done this before?" Oz asked bitterly, gripping a couch cushion with white knuckles.

  
"I have, although most of my patients are already dead though, so you're a special case"

  
Oswald thought this not exactly encouraging statement over, something nagging in the back of his head.

  
"We've met before haven't we, at the GCPD." More of a statement than a question "Rude nerd in a lab coat. Yeah. You told me a shitty riddle."

  
"Yes," he let the riddle comment slide "That was me. Edward Nygma, at your service"

  
Despite the pain, Oswald snorted out a laugh "Nygma" he let the world roll off his tongue.

  
"Kind of a funny name"

  
"There is _nothing_ funny about my name" He finished tieing a knot in the string and tugged, decisively too hard. Oswald winced but bit down a snarky remark.

"You're done, try not to move it too much. It will scar, but not too badly" The stranger, who he now knew as Edward stood up to wash his hands in the small kitchen sink. Eyeing him up and down, Oswald felt any energy drain from him.

  
"Thank you. I am truly grateful" he relented, examining the wound closer. “This might be the neatest stitching I’ve ever had the displeasure of obtaining.” Edward visibly preened, pushing his glasses up his nose. They regarded each other for just a moment, flooded in the warm yellow light. Nygma cleared his throat awkwardly and busied himself in the kitchen.

"Would you like a cup of tea?"

"I wouldn't mind it"

Nygama's hand paused over the handle of the cupboard, turning over the response in his mind.

"Does that you mean you genuinely would like one but don't want to seem insistent, or that you're turning me down in an indirect way of being polite?"

  
Oswald blinked, slightly taken aback, considering the options he was offered to what he had considered a straight forward answer.

  
"The first one. Tea would be nice" He said carefully.

  
The other man nodded, seemingly content with this answer, and began to make the tea.  
Oswald's instinct from living in Gotham, a city where the enemy of your enemy was still your enemy, set off alarm bells warning him not to drink anything prepared by a stranger. _But_ he considered, _if this man had wanted him dead he easily could have let him bleed out on the forest floor and gotten away scot-free_. As Edward continued to keep his back to him, only sparing a glance to ask if he took sugar, Oswald decided he was in safe hands. For now.

Sinking back into the cushions of the makeshift couch, he let himself relax and access the damage. The chronic pain from his leg hurt as always, sore and stiff. But the bleeding from his shoulder had stopped. He had to admit it, Edward was skilled and it looked like it would heal nicely. Most of his scars were unsightly and rough- for the simple fact that he had to deal with them himself in a gas station bathroom armed with staples and duct tape.

Proper doctors were expensive, risky and rare to encounter in the dirty underbelly of Gotham. Now with his growing wealth and army, it was less of a problem; but the past had left its mark, like it or not. Perhaps this would be one scar he could look back at fondly.

A steady hand entered his field of vision, placing a steaming mug in front of him on the table. He muttered a word of thanks, wrapping his hands around it and taking a sip; feeling the warmth seep back into his body.

"Mr Penguin?" Edward broke the silence

"Hmm?"

  
"May I ask who shot you?"

  
"May I ask why _you_ were burying a body?"

  
They exchanged stern looks until Ed's crackled into a wide smile that made Oswald's heart skip a beat.

  
"Touché"

* * *

Edward stopped mid-sentence when he realised his audience was drooling into his shoulder. He had been rambling about The Ship of Theseus thought experiment, so caught up in his thoughts that he hadn't noticed the kingpin had begun to drift off.

  
"Mr Penguin?"

  
Nothing. He stood up from the armchair and gingerly touched his good shoulder

  
"Oswald?"

  
This time there was an instant reaction, he jolted awake, one hand scrabbling for a knife that wasn't there, the other gripping a handful of his shirt and pulling him off balance. Edward's shin slammed into the coffee table, arms thrown out for balance in an unsuccessful attempt to right himself. A mug crashed to the floor, shattering.

  
_"Get your fuckin' hands off m-"_

  
Oswald, realising too late that his knee jerk reaction of self-defence had been misplaced, felt the wind knocked out of him as his shoulder cried out in painfrom the sudden movement and Edward toppled, he winced awaiting the collision.

  
Waited.

  
Waited.

  
When it didn't come, he dared open one eye. Ed was leaning over him, arms out either side propping him up on the couch. He kneeled on the coffee table, one long leg hanging awkwardly off in an attempt to remain balanced. Oswald was pressed back into the couch pillows. Their faces were awfully close, their noses almost touching.

  
Oswald stared past the wonky glasses and straight into his golden-brown eyes, just as Ed gazed into his ones. _Gazed._ He could feel his warm breath on his skin, his own breath fogging up the glasses that separated them. The hair on the back of his neck pricked in anticipation. The taller man's ears and cheeks were going pink.

  
Edward was suddenly acutely aware of Everything.

The dust motes floated in the warm yellow lamplight. The thin, worn fabric of the couch- a cotton and polyester mix, most likely. The slow trickle of blood from the scrape on his knee making its way down his leg, staining his already ruined pants. The freckles that danced along Oswald's nose and cheekbones. How tight his chest felt. Oswald still gripping his shirt. How close their hands were.

"I take you by night, by day take you back. None suffer to have me, but do from my lack. What am I?"

  
Oswald blinked.

  
" _Excuse me_?"

  
Cursing himself mentally, Nygma cleared his throat, pulling away from the other man's grip and standing, straightening his clothes with shaking hands.

  
"It's a riddle," He said by way of explanation. Then "I'm- I didn't mean to startle you"

  
Oswald shut his mouth that he didn't realise was hanging open.

  
"It's alright friend, I'm- I am just particularly jumpy at the moment. You understand"

  
"I understand" Edward echoed "Do you give up? On my riddle?"

  
Penguin nodded, trying not to sound like he was catching his breath.

  
"Sleep! I take you by night, suffer from a lack of it. And the best aids for wounds, such as the one you are sporting. Rest will definitely help more than anything I could do right now. Apart from maybe fresh air, a stroll by the docks perhaps! Get that sea salt in your lungs."  
He was rambling and couldn't stop, the nervous words pouring from his mouth like a burst waterpipe trying to fill the silence.

  
"Or a hospital! But that would raise for too many questions I suspect. Did you know that in medical dramas, about 66% of patients who are administered CPR survive long enough to be discharged from the hospital? In reality, CPR actually only has a success rate between 2% and 18%? Fascinating!!"

Oswald stared at him. His vision was blurring at the edges and everything hurt, but he managed to think, what kind of cruel fate had saddled with such a handsome fool.

"Fascinating" He deadpanned back at him.

Ed decided to ignore his icy sarcastic tone altogether.

  
 _"So!"_ He exclaimed, clapping; making them both jump "How about this; you sleep on the couch and get some rest, and I'll go collect more medical supplies in the meantime." Anything to get out of here, it was suddenly far too warm for his taste. If he didn't move right now he was going to explode.  
Without waiting for a reply, he began pulling on his jacket and gloves, turning towards the door.

“Ed?”

  
“Yes, Mr Penguin?” he stopped halfway out the door

Whatever it was- some irrational question or demand- died in his throat. How the hell did this guy manage to kill anyone? Died of embarrassment, probably. He cursed his hammering heartbeat, blaming it on the injury.

"Just... Just Oswald is fine.”

  
“Oswald,” Ed repeated. "As you wish"

* * *

Gazing up at the stars, Ed realized there was nowhere to get the medical supplies he promised. Idiot, he scolded himself. Why did he act like such a moron? Pacing and flapping his hands in an attempt to calm down and regain his thought process, he tried to assess the situation. He had killed three people! Today alone! He shouldn't be feeling...

_flustered_

....whatever the fuck he was feeling right now.

To his utter dismay, it started to rain. The words Pathetic Fallacy sat ironically on his tongue.

He resigned himself to picking the direction he came from and walking into the cold night, hoping to vanish into a hole in the ground and never be seen again.

  
No such luck. He retrieved the tools he left at the crime scene, hiding them in nearby foliage. Bracing himself for the worst, assault of the verbal or physical nature, or even for the Penguin to have up and vanished. He was pleasantly surprised to mind the mob boss asleep once again, spread out on the couch. With a sigh of relief, he closed the door quietly behind him.

Peeling off his shoes as not to track mud into the carpet, Ed considered for a moment draping his coat over the sleeping figure as a makeshift blanket. Don't be absurd, he scolded himself as he hung the jacket in question over the sink, where it could drip quietly onto the laminate.

Double-checking the door and windows were locked, he curled up in the worn armchair, tucking his feet underneath himself. With a final glance at his new companion, content to know he wouldn't wake up alone, Ed reached out to turn off the lamp- bathing the room into the cool darkness of night.

"Goodnight, Oswald"

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!! I'm mad we didn't get more of these two taking care of each other and that's a shame. I know this is a slight canon divergence since they technically meet in Ed apartment, but sue me. If you have any ideas/criticism/fav parts, please feel free to comment them! I really mean the world to me!  
> I'm on tumblr at @none-of-us-are feel free to hmu!


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